


it’s ok (you’re ok, you’re ok)

by kashxy



Series: will i ever stop writing angst? (no) [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Blood, Death, It’s pretty dark?, Kinda gruesome, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashxy/pseuds/kashxy
Summary: “mr. stark?” it’s stronger, steadier this time. “please don’t cry.”





	it’s ok (you’re ok, you’re ok)

really, they should have seen it coming. 

although, how could they? 

this wasn’t thanos - this wasn’t a super villain the avengers had had to fight together. this was a man, half the strength of peter, who’d plunged a knife through layers of skin and muscle, over and over again, and punctured so many organs and arteries that tony had to shut friday down when she told him, so quickly he almost broke her. 

“shit, kid, why didn’t you listen?” he murmurs, trying to ignore the fact that peter’s bleeding out in a dirty alleyway rather than in a bed, dying of old age, eighty years from now, like it should have been. he’d always worn the watch on his right wrist, just in case something exactly like this were to happen. why wasn’t he wearing it?

“mr. s-stark?” he coughs off, dribbling down his chin and wetting the letters of his science-pun t-shirt. tony almost sobs - this wasn’t an attack on spider-man. this was an attack on a fifteen year old _kid_. 

“happy, hurry the _fuck_ up.” the breath in his chest is starting to dissolve a lot quicker than usual, and he has to press so hard against peter’s torso to stop them shaking, that he can feel the kids’ ribs underneath his calloused palms. 

tears slip down peter’s cheeks as he looks down at the wound which is still gushing blood. his fingers are shaking violently, and his lips are starting to turn purple, and - _fuck_. 

the panic attack that rises in tony’s chest really isn’t unexpected, but it’s _fucking_ _unwelcome_. how the _fuck_ can he stay calm while the kid, _his_ kid is bleeding out into his hands and his body is convulsing  _andandand_ -

“mr. stark.” peter croaks out, and -  _shit_. the kid’s still there, still bleeding, still shaking, still- 

“mr. stark.” it’s stronger, steadier this time, and tony blinks. his hand is so tight around peter’s own that his fingers hurt, and the kid is watching him with tears in his eyes and a face full of agonising pain. “please don’t cry.” 

tony just blinks at him, his expression almost emotionless. his chest ceases to rise and fall, and he gulps the lost oxygen back in one strong, choking inhalation - he can taste blood on his tongue. 

“it’s okay, it’s okay.” the kid insists and the tears really do fall now, hot and so strong that tony can’t see. 

“mr. stark. it’s okay. y-you’re okay.” he speaks, so soft and quiet and _weak_. blood trickles out of the side of his mouth and tony has to bite _hard_ onto his knuckle to stop himself heaving. 

“kid, i- fuck, kid, please stay with me.” 

peter just smiles softly and lolls his head back into tony’s arms. the older man shifts, so that his arm can cradle peter’s head whilst simultaneously holding pressure onto the wound that doesn’t seem to want to stop bleeding. the kid looks so small and innocent that tony has to bite back a sob. 

“please help may. she needs...money.” he whispers, throwing his head back in pain. at the movement, the wound opens up again and suddenly tony’s hands are _dripping_ in blood, soaking into his shirt and down his jeans. the iron man suit is laying dormant to his right, and he’s not sure he ever wants to put it on again. it just wasn’t _quick_ _enough_. 

“money, and-“ he breaks off, gasping harshly. his teeth are stained red, his eyes slowly beginning to glaze over. “help. she can’t...do it alone.” 

another pained cry from peter has tony jolting up, stroking back the kid’s curly hair from his sweaty forehead, almost harshly. his hands are shaking so bad he’s worried he’ll hit peter in the face, and he takes a shuddering breath before pressing his lips to peter’s head. 

“you can help her yourself, kid. it’s gonna be fine.” 

peter doesn’t respond, only shifts so that tony can’t see the wound. the older man can’t tell whether the hiss of pain that escapes his mouth is from the wound itself or the movement that opens up punctures in his lungs. 

a shallow scream, choked and quiet, shocks tony out of his worrying and he looks down to see peter violently convulsing, face contorted into such a painful expression that it burns an imagine behind tony’s eyelids and haunts him every time he blinks away tears. 

friday informs him that peter’s heart rate is rapidly rising and yes, _he knows, he knows, the kid is fucking dying in his arms, he -_

 _“_ mr _stark.”_ he sobs, shaking in tony’s arms like a frightened child. “i don’t wanna go, i don’t wanna go, please-“ 

“sh,” tony cuts him off, lifting the kid to hold him gently against his chest. peter coughs and splutters, leaving dribbles of spit and blood all over tony’s chest, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “you’re okay. you’re okay.” 

the breath in tony’s chest cuts short as peter stops struggling, goes limp in his arms. he stops flinching so quickly that tony has to check his eyelids, making sure they’re still gently fluttering. his breathing slows, the tears in his eyes slowly running dry, and the breath is expelled from tony’s lungs so quickly that he can’t remember what air tastes like. 

he looks up at tony, so innocent, yet full of pain that tony _cries_.

”i don’t wanna go,” he repeats, though his voice has slowed to a gentle tremor, his nostrils fluttering violently to keep oxygen in his lungs. “please, sir.” 

if tony hadn’t already had his heart broken by the cries and sobs of his kid, the fact that he’s begging tony not to let him go has him reeling back in agony, his heart physically breaking inside of his chest. 

“hey, it’s okay, pete.” he murmurs, stroking his shaking hands through peter’s curls. his backpack, covered in specks of blood, lays discarded near his head. the zipper is open, and tony can see the mask of his spider-man suit poking out. his breath catches. 

“you’re okay. i promise.” 

“it hurts, mr. stark.” he breaks off in a coughing fit, thick blood spilling over his lower lip. his whole mouth is covered in the blood, and tony gently attempts to wipe it away with his shirt sleeve, softly rocking peter back and forth. 

“i know, baby. i know.” 

happy won’t be here for another three minutes, the ambulance only two - but he’s not sure he can ask peter to hold on for that long. 

true to his word, peter’s head rolls back and his breathing slows to a dangerous level within thirty seconds. his blinking is soft and slow as he gazes up at tony with such innocence that tony drops his head, too ashamed to look peter in the eye. 

“ned wants to see the-” he breaks off, coughing. “the lab. p-please?” 

“yeah kid,” tony laughs through tears. “he can see it whenever he likes.” 

peter nods and takes a deep breath. his hands stop shaking as they move to gently clasp onto tony’s fingers, holding them like a lifeline. 

his mouth opens to speak, but all that comes out is a broken moan. his eyes roll back into his head, and it takes a while for tony to understand that his chest has stopped rising. 

he takes in a stuttered breath, eyes wide. “k-kid?” 

when peter doesn’t answer, his glazed eyes gazing up at something past tony, he begins to shake him, so harshly that his head knocks backwards and forwards.

”kid! wake up! peter, pete, fuck, _please_.”

panic rises in his chest as peter doesn’t answer. his eyes don’t move, even as tony screams at him to open his eyes, even as tony holds him so hard against his chest that he can _feel_ every bone in the kid’s body.  

“peter...” he trails off, barely able to see through his tears. his chest splutters as he tries to breathe, the pain already settling like a brick in his stomach. “peter. oh god.” 

his mind flitters violently with everything he never said, three words so prominent in his mind that they fall out of his mouth like vomit, spilling onto peter’s deaf ears. 

“i love you.” he sobs out, hugging peter as close to his body as he possibly can. “i love you, i love you, i love you...” 

he trails off as the ambulance pulls up, his face hidden in peter’s hair. he can barely see as he breathes in the last of the kid’s smell, eyes wet against his head. 

barely registering that the ambulance crew have arrived, tony just shakes and shakes and _shakes_. the shudders are so violent that he almost drops peter onto his lap, his limbs so weak that he can hardly hold him up. the breath in his chest has long since expired, and it physically hurts him to continue breathing while peter’s lungs can’t seem to move anymore. he squeezes his kid’s hand, holding onto the still-warm flesh like it’s a lifeline. he’s worried that if he lets go, peter will fall away from him forever.  

“time of death,” the ambulance crew state, and tony _sobs_. “9.54.” 


End file.
